


Levels of Light

by elem (elem44)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elem44/pseuds/elem
Summary: Written for the Delirium Challenge on Vamb. This is a flashfic but one that went off on an unexpected tangent and consequently, way over the word limit – again. I tossed around the idea of dividing it into chapters but I think everyone will agree after reading the first part that it would be cruel to end it at that point. Let’s just say this is an angsty variation on a hurt/comfort fic with a happy ending.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to LauraW for the prompt. These challenges have been a blast and after a long hiatus (busy real life and family commitments), I feel as though I’m slowly getting my writing chops back and I’m looking forward to posting more stories soon.
> 
> This is unbetaed so apologies for any glaring mistakes.

I’m delirious or perhaps I’m still dreaming. I open my eyes and welcome the harsh light of reality – pleasure, pain and all things in between – and they confirm that this is real. His warm body next to mine, a possessive arm across my middle, his hand nestled between my breasts covering the still inflamed skin of my recently healed wound. After everything we’ve been through, I need this to be real – this celebration of life, this affirmation, this love.

* * *

I wasn’t expecting the Ambassador to be armed; no one was. I thought my diplomatic expertise had moved us well beyond the risk of violence but it’s a lesson we’ve learned all too often in the Delta Quadrant – there are no guarantees and assume nothing.

I extended my hand in friendship; he raised a weapon and fired.

I felt the explosive thud in the middle of my chest, the horse-kick ‘whump’ that stole my breath and threw me back into the solid body of my first officer. Surprise was my first reaction but strangely, I felt no pain. In those glacier-slow seconds it took me to crumple to the ground, everything around me was thrown into stark and vibrant contrast. I watched the warm spatter of blood burst from my chest, droplets of it tumbling through the air and landing in small crimson starbursts on those gathered around me. I heard Chakotay’s anguished bellow – his bull roar of disbelief as I slid to the ground in his arms. I saw the alien ambassador’s head whip back, a phaser blast hitting him between the eyes before he pirouetted and fell into the crowding mass of aliens.

I felt Chakotay’s hand pressing hard into my chest, our bodies shaking – mine in shock, his in distress – his eyes riveted to mine; desperation and fear etched in their anguished depths. I wanted to tell him that it would be all right but I could already feel myself drifting away. The ragged and unsteady pounding of my heart, and the gurgling sound that was my voice scared me as much as it did him. I fought against the encroaching darkness but I was losing the battle; the edges of my vision fading as the grey void of oblivion began its insidious advance. Tuvok’s strident voice called for an emergency beam out and the comforting walls of Sickbay appeared. Cocooned in Chakotay’s warm embrace, I looked into his eyes and tried to tell him that I was sorry, but failed.

The last thing I saw was his grief-stricken face as he pleaded, “Stay with me, Kathryn. You stay with me, do you hear me? Stay, damn you!”

I tried but there are some things even I can’t accomplish on my own.

I died then.

* * *

But they brought me back.

My brief death had been sudden but painless.

In contrast, my reawakening was agony.

One moment there was nothing and the next my world was filled with searing, burning pain. My chest was on fire, each gasping inhalation coated in shards of glass, my whole body rebelling against the sucking vortex of consciousness. I writhed and protested as I tried to veer away from the bright light of awareness bristling with its barrage of razor edged torment and back into the pain-free clutches of oblivion. But it was too late. Each beat of my heart brought me closer to wakefulness and with it came wave after wave of pulsing hurt; there was nowhere to retreat to, nowhere to hide. My senses were overloaded, everything tangled and overlapping, but through the acid wash of agony, I could distinguish one familiar sound. I knew it was vitally important to me and with a sudden spike of clarity, I recognised it. His voice – the soothing timbre of his words calling me, begging me to come back to him. I desperately wanted to do as he asked but the pain was like a heavy blanket – smothering and impenetrable – and I was buried beneath it unable to claw my way to the surface.

A cold hiss against my neck brought some relief and allowed me to focus on the calming lilt of his voice, all my senses honing in on that single solid entity, the soft-cushioned anchor that would keep me here and then gently draw me up from the depths.

I surfaced. Slowly but surely rising from the pitch black towards the light and the pulsing red of my closed eyelids. I knew I was in Sickbay but remembered very little of the how or why. Small snippets flash through my mind – shock, Chakotay’s wounded howl, the metallic tang of blood – but the details are hazy and I don’t want to think about them yet. I want to concentrate on his voice and his touch – my hand is in his and he’s squeezing it tightly – desperation in his grip as well as in his voice.

My eyelids flutter as the last of the pain succumbs to the Doctor’s ministrations and the first thing I see is Chakotay’s face. He looks terrible; haggard and drawn, his complexion paler than I’ve ever seen it. He can’t have slept in days but I’m deliriously happy to see him. His smile is vivid bright, his eyes deep, dark and shimmering with tears of relief. Everything else fades into the background as our gazes lock. He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers. It must have been a close call for him to risk such an open display of affection. I want to touch him too but I have no strength, none at all.

I test my voice. It’s like gravel. “Hi.”

His isn’t much better. “Hi yourself.”

“How long?”

“Eight days”

That long! I’m surprised and I raise my eyebrows in question.

He seems reluctant to elaborate but he knows I won’t rest until I have all the facts.

“You were shot by the Kavari ambassador. It was a political manoeuvre to garner favour with the ruling monarch. You were simply a convenient target.”

I nod. Typical.

The Doctor appears in my line of sight brandishing a hypospray. “You need to rest, Captain.”

Before I can protest, he’s administered the sedative and I can feel myself becoming weightless and floating towards sleep.

I grip Chakotay’s hand tightly and the only words I can muster are, “Don’t go.”

He leans close, close enough that I catch his scent as he whispers, “Never.”

I smile and sleep.

* * *

Two days later, the Doctor releases me to my quarters.

* * *

I’m deliriously happy to be back in my quarters and only ten minutes after my arrival my door chimes. I knew he’d come. I’d been counting on it.

“Enter.”

He stands just inside the doorway and looks oddly reticent as he nods and enquires, “How are you feeling, Kathryn?”

After the cavalcade of intense emotions we’ve displayed in Sickbay, our stilted conversation seems strange and out of character but I can tell that he’s unsure whether or not the barriers are back in place – the Captain and Commander once again relegated to their allotted corners.

They’re not and never will be again. As clichéd as it sounds, coming face to face with one’s mortality tends to throw a glaring light onto the deficiencies of one’s life choices. And I’m determined to remedy this particular deficiency as soon as possible.

I smile. “I’m feeling much better. A little sore still, but considering….” I shrug. “The discomfort is almost welcome.”

His eyes darken and I can see that he’s reliving that awful moment. I’m sorry that my words have taken him back there but it’s something we’re both going to have to come to terms with. Time, I hope, will allow us that.

I need to drag him away from the memories and back to the present.

“Would you like some tea?”

He shakes his head but his eyes never waver. He’s studying me; his gaze travelling carefully over my face and down my body; slowly and methodically checking that I am actually in one piece; assuring himself that the Doctor hasn’t missed something vital. His stare is intense – unapologetically so – and it stirs something deep within me; something that, until now, I wasn’t sure I was ready to acknowledge. Now, I refuse to ignore it. Before last week’s events, I might have deflected this intense scrutiny or reprimanded him for so blatantly disregarding protocol but not now.

He deserves this – he needs it – I know I would if I were in his place.

I wait patiently, trying to steady my breaths as he gets his fill. When I see some of the rigidness leave his shoulders, I break the tense silence.

“A coffee?” I feel foolish muttering inanities but there are so many emotions vying for attention that I’m not sure where to start.

Again he shakes his head. “Nothing, thank you.”

Finished his inspection and presumably satisfied with the result, his gaze once more meets mine.

I sit down on the settee beneath my window and with a smile, encourage him to join me. He sits at a distance, on the very edge and I can see tension in each taut movement of his body.

He chafes his hands against one another before his fingers knot themselves together in his lap. Momentarily distracted, I watch them, wishing he would reach for me, wrap his hands around me, but there’s just so much to say and too much ground to cover.

I glance at him from the corner of my eye as his gaze darts towards me and then cuts away again. I can see the yearning etched in every line on his face and in the steely clench of his jaw.

Finally, I can’t stand the uncertainty any longer but instead of speaking, I turn, grab a fistful of his jacket and pull him towards me until his lips are on mine.

He grunts, initially in surprise, I think, but then he returns the kiss and the sounds become something closer to groans of want and need. I lie back bringing him with me; it hurts a little but I don’t care. The discomfort is nothing compared to the sheer delight of having his solid weight on top of me. My legs part, welcoming him into the cradle of my hips and he nestles between my thighs. I can feel the hard heat of him and he thrusts and grinds into me, groaning into my mouth as I sigh in answer. He stiffens and pulls away.

“Kathryn, I…”

“What, Chakotay?”

Again, his eyes search my face. “Are you sure?”

I cup his cheeks in my hands and laugh with pure delight before I drag his mouth towards mine once more. That’s my answer.

I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.

* * *

I’m delirious with want, love, hunger, need… did I say love?

Our clothes are gone, scattered across the living area of my quarters and I’m in a dishevelled state of wanton bliss. I can barely string a coherent thought together, and cry and mewl like a madwoman, but I can’t help myself. What he’s doing to my body is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced, although I’m not surprised by his skill. I knew he would be an amazing lover; the way he moves, his hands, his eyes, his touch, his mouth. Oh God!

I’m writhing beneath him; my eyes squeezed shut as I try to untangle this deluge of feelings. His fingers and lips slip and slide down my body leaving a warm moist trail in their wake; every touch ignites a fire beneath my skin, sends my blood searing through my veins, every tingling nerve ending alive and yearning for his touch, each sensation driving me hurtling towards the brink – of what, I’m not sure – but insanity comes to mind.

I’m trying to breathe but my short sharp gasps simply increase my arousal; I’m burning with want. My breasts throb, their swollen tips engorged from his suckling and as my hips rise off the couch to meet him. I groan and then inhale deeply before crying out as his mouth presses against me. There’s heat and moisture, an incessant tightening of deep muscles and I feel reality begin to unravel. My fingers weave through his hair, pulling him hard against me as he makes love to me, his tongue sure and precise, laving through my folds, circling my clitoris while his fingers dance across the skin of my belly and knead the tender globes of my buttocks.

He is everywhere – on me, over me, in me – I’m  overwhelmed but hunger for more. He seems to read my mind, his hands skimming over the plains and valleys of my body, teasing at the dips and hollows before his lips skim over my belly then press a long, loving kiss to the still tender skin between my breasts. I can feel my heart thudding strong and steady beneath his lips and I hope that it reassures him as much as it does me. He whispers something against the scar, I can only guess what it is but he speaks it directly to my heart and my need to be a part of him blossoms outward from there. I pull his face to mine and kiss him with everything I am.

We break apart to each gasp a lungful of air and then he aligns himself, tenderly cupping my face between his gentle hands before he presses into me. I cry out as he glides into my heat, and again I’m besieged by sensations. The delicious stretch of flesh, the fullness and warmth of him sheathed within me, the closeness that binds us body and soul.

I can feel him alive and strong inside me as I, in turn, surround him with a pulsing heat and softness that asserts my existence. It’s what we both need – sex is one of the great affirmers of life, and after near death – however fleeting – it holds a power over us that is grounding as well as mystical.

His movements are sure and steady, full of a gentleness that belies his strength and I’m so in love I can barely breathe. His body hovers over mine, moving in an ever-increasing rhythm, the beauty and rawness of it fills me with life. I grip his shoulders, my fingers digging into the muscle as I anchor myself against him. Breast to chest, our lower bodies fused in a grinding dance of devotion. He kisses me, as his fingers stroke me in counter rhythm and I am lost. My body arches, my lips tear away from his as I howl my rapture to the universe. I feel him come, the pulsing heat of his orgasm slowly quenching the fire within and we slump back against the settee, exhausted, delighted and alive. I wonder idly if I’ll ever be able to look at my settee again without remembering this moment. I breathe deeply and smile.

His fingers comb through my hair, sweeping it back from my damp forehead before he leans over and kisses me again. I smile against his lips. I can’t seem to stop smiling and the reason is patently clear to me.

I’m alive and death holds no power over me anymore. None of us knows what the future has in store but in this moment, I’m loved, in love and truly happy. Together we will make the most of what time we have left. Every day is a gift and should be lived as such.

* * *

Several hours later, as I curl into Chakotay’s side, wrapped safely and securely in his arms, I briefly revisit those now dream-like moments of my near-death and sift through the fragmented memories, separating the incandescent from the ordinary. I’m left with his presence, his eyes, his voice and the safe harbour of his embrace as the things I remember, the pieces of that past that shine through and above all else. They are what matter most, the truths that tether me to this existence and buffer me against life’s adversities. It is so simple yet so complex, and with this knowledge comes the realisation that I’m now where I am meant to be – in this life and the next.

fin


End file.
